|
In an era of remakes, reboots, and redos, I was genuinely jazzed as hell to be getting a Practical Magic sequel this year. Iâm such an evangelist for the original book and bad-good movie that I flew across the country to watch it with a buddy.
After securing a giant beverage and a lifetime supply of popcornârefreshments that came with the ridiculous commemorative plastic blender I gleefully purchasedâI sat down and prepared to be razzled and dazzled anew.Â
Both the razzle and the dazzle were in low supply.Â
The magic was, well, impractical. The original filmâs CGI is minimal (and mostly used on Jimmy Angelovâs creep ass), but PM2 went hard in the other direction. I wanted more potions and whimsy, less laser battles and silly flower magic.
How you gonâ make Lee Pace cringe? Not even that gorgeous redwood of a man could save that line about molecules. Whoeverâs responsible, we have beef now.
Holy Botox, batman! Let women age! I know the pressure is real and women canât win, and Iâm not even anti-âtox. But there was something so jarring about all those frozen faces that donât match their kneecaps, and in a movie about witches.
Arya Stark deserved better. Antonia is reduced to kind of a boring side character, and sheâs stripped of her queerness, but she and her partner helped break the curse in the book. Shame!
Stray thoughts: We needed Vincent. Did Kylie hop on a jet plane with only that slip dress and a dream? Did she at least pack a few pairs of panties? At least we got some Fleetwood Mac.
It wasnât all bad. Stockard Channing and Dianne Wiest are gold, and Sandra and Nicole seemed to have a great time. And I did get to sway along to âLandslideâ with one of my dearest friends for a couple of witchy hours. That part was worth the price of admission, and the cost of the blender, too. âVD
|